


Like Fire

by bansheee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Best Friends, Community: HPFT, Deamus, Drinking, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Mild Smut, Morning After, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 23:44:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6492544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bansheee/pseuds/bansheee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Two days. We've been flatmates for two days."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is an 'extended' version of this/my story that is posted on harrypotterfanfiction.com.

Dean rolled over in his bed, an unusual feeling of freedom stealing his last moments of peaceful sleep.  
  
He was not wearing any clothes.  
  
The sunlight was bright against his eyelids, doing everything in its power to urge on the pounding in his temples. It was a surefire sign that the bottle of Firewhisky he and Seamus were working through the night before was gone.  
  
It was strange, though, the whole situation. Strange enough to make him try to blink his eyes open. He picked his bedroom specifically because it got the afternoon sun instead of the morning, and he couldn’t have possibly slept that much of his day away.  
  
He brought his arm right up to his face and peeked one eye open, blinking to get his vision to clear enough to read the time on his watch.  
  
Seeing the hour hand at a much earlier position than he anticipated, he sighed in relief and dropped his arm back onto the bed.  
  
Or, onto someone’s stomach. The  _person in his bed_  let out a grunt of pain, and Dean scrambled to sit up.  
  
Eyes wide in panic, Dean stared at Seamus’ bare chest. His blanket – Seamus’ blanket, his brain supplied, he was in Seamus’ bed – was doing very little to cover the fact that Seamus was also not wearing any clothes, and pitching a tent under the very thin sheet.  
  
“Wha—”  
  
Dean watched, frozen and terrified as Seamus opened his eyes. Seamus stared at Dean for a moment, before looking down at himself, and back to Dean.  
  
“Dean—did we…” Seamus’ eyes flooded with panic.  
  
“No, no way,  _no_.” Dean slinked out of the bed and onto the floor. He grabbed the pillow he was just using and covered himself, making a beeline for the door. He turned and looked at Seamus again. “No, nope.”  
  
Dean marched down the small hallway towards his own room, holding the pillow securely in front of himself. It wasn’t until he stepped into the living room that he realized the voices.  
  
His jaw dropped at the same time as Luna’s. She was sitting on their couch with a guy, one of their party guests that Dean did not remember the name of. They looked like they were having a pleasant conversation up until Dean walked in.  
  
Dean held up a finger and hightailed it back for Seamus’ room. The pillow was much too small for this.  
  
“Oi!” Seamus shouted, tugging his blanket up to his neck as if Dean hadn’t gotten more than an eyeful when he woke up.  
  
“Luna’s still here!” Dean hissed, slamming Seamus’ door. He scaled against the wall of Seamus’ room towards his wardrobe.  
  
“Top left, toss me a pair,” Seamus said. Dean tugged out two pairs of shorts and threw one in the direction of the bed. While Seamus slid the shorts under the blanket with him, Dean struggled to hold up the pillow as he slid the other pair on under it.  
  
Dean wished a sliver relief would come to him as he got dressed, but he knew his problems weren’t even close to being solved.  
  
*  
  
“It’s ninety-five Galleons a month, with a fifty Galleon security deposit,” The landlord said. Dean looked over to Seamus, who was grinning madly.  
  
“That’s a bit much for… this, don’t you think?” Dean asked the old wizard. He looked over to the peeling wallpaper and the scuff marks all over the floor.  
  
The man gave him an unimpressed scowl. “You’re a pair of teenagers looking at flats on Diagon Alley. Try Knockturn if you’re looking for a bargain.”  
  
Before Dean could retort, Seamus was tugging him away.  
  
“Mate, that’ll work,” Seamus muttered. “You’ll be able to walk to Gringotts from here, and just as soon as I find a job we’ll be set. Mam’ll pay the security deposit just to get me out of her house.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and ignored the feeling in the pit of his stomach at Seamus squeezing his arm. “I don’t want to rely on our parents to pay for this.” He looked around the dinky flat. It did have a certain charm if he squinted. If he really squinted. They’d each have their own room, with a decent living space in the center.  
  
“I dunno,” Dean said, “It’d be just as easy to get to work living outside of London. And it’d be cheaper.”  
  
“Think of the London night life though,” Seamus said. “We’re right in the middle of everything here. And think of how easy it would be to bring a lady back here.”  
  
Dean frowned. It’d be so easy to correct him and get it over with. ‘Or a lad,’ was all he would have to say, and it’d be over, done with, Seamus could accept it and move on, or never speak to him again.  
  
Another day.  
  
He looked at the eagerness in Seamus’ smile, and looked around the flat again. “Yeah, alright, let’s do it.”  
  
*  
  
“Go send Luna home!” Seamus hissed at Dean. They were both standing in the doorway of Seamus’ room, leaning into the hall. “Bloody hell, is that Rolf she’s talking to?”  
  
“Who’s Rolf?” Dean whispered.  
  
“Co-worker at Eeylops,” Seamus replied. He turned back to the living room, and that’s when Dean saw it.  
  
There was a small, reddened patch of skin on Seamus’ neck. It would have been a badge of honor back at Hogwarts, but now, it had Dean putting a large step between them.  
  
A small noise escaped before he could help it, and Seamus turned to him. His stomach stirred at the thought that he might have… probably… put the mark on the boy’s skin.  
  
Dean knew he was staring at it and failing at being subtle. Sure enough, Seamus brought his fingers to his neck and cringed in discomfort when he touched the reddened spot. His eyes widened at Dean and he crossed the room to his wardrobe mirror.  
  
A noise of shock left his mouth, and he turned to Dean.  
  
“Did you—did I— you—” Seamus stuttered, pointing between them. A flare of redness was filling his cheeks.  
  
“We had to have been too sloshed for…  _that_ ,” Dean said. “And I don’t—” He cringed. “We… might have—”  
  
Seamus rubbed his temples. “I can’t remember anything. How much did we drink?” He crossed the room and sat on his bed, burying his face in his hands.  
  
“I don’t know,” Dean replied, leaning against the door to press it shut. “I can’t even think my head hurts so much.”  
  
“I have a Hangover Draft in my trunk if you want it,” Seamus said, nodding towards the old Hogwarts trunk in the corner of the room. “I don’t think I can move or I’d get it.” Dean nodded in thanks, and crossed the room to grab it. He rifled through the old dusty potions supplies and charred spell books until he found the tiny purple vial. He downed half of it, before handing the potion to Seamus. He watched as Seamus brought it to his lips and finished it off.  
  
He stared at the boy’s mouth as his head cleared, memories trickling back to him. He remembered coming out to Seamus only minutes before their party guests arrived the previous night; the way said mouth made a tiny ‘O’ shape in surprise.  
  
His thoughts were still blurry, but if he concentrated he could almost remember the feel of those lips on his. Messy drunken snogs that tasted like fire blurred through his brain as they ditched their own party for Seamus’ bedroom. He remembered articles of clothing dropping on the floor, and drunken courageous touches wrapped up in the warmth of Seamus’ blanket.  
  
He hooked up with his best friend.  
  
*  
  
“I brought you a Tibetan Turnip plant as a housewarming gift,” Luna told Dean and Seamus as she entered their brand new flat. Dean watched as she made herself at home, setting the magical plant on their counter and watering it from her wand. “They’re said to bring peace and rejuvenate energy to homes. They grow when it’s warm out, so make sure to put it on the windowsill in a few months.”  
  
“Thanks, Luna, it’s great,” Dean said, eyeing the plant. Dean looked to Seamus, who was staring at it with equal hesitation. Seamus grinned at him, and Dean smiled back.  
  
“Luna’s going to help me unpack a bit,” Dean told Seamus. “Want to come hang out with us?” He tried not to let his tone sound too hopeful.

  
  
“Thanks,” Seamus said, shaking his head. “But I’m gonna grab a kip before tonight.”  
  
Dean grinned at Seamus and watched as he walked down the hall towards his room. When Seamus closed the door behind him, Dean finally turned to Luna, who was already headed for his room. Dean followed her. He left his door open as she sat on his bed, in case Seamus decided to join them.  
  
“Dean,” Luna said as she sat on his bed. He watched as she levitated a box of his clothes towards her. “You really should talk to Seamus. It’s clearly bothering you a lot.”  
  
Luna’s voice was always soft, and always comforted Dean. He looked at the girl sitting on his bed, waving her wand to fold all of his socks.  
  
“You’re staying for the party tonight, right?” Dean asked her, trying to change the subject. “Seamus invited some of his co-workers, and I think Harry and them might be stopping by.”  
  
Luna smiled and nodded. “It would be nice to catch up with Ginny. I haven’t seen her since she and Harry got engaged.”  
  
Dean thought about what Luna said as they unpacked his things.  
  
He should have told Seamus before they moved in together. That way, if Seamus wouldn’t accept it, they wouldn’t be under a magical contract when Seamus wanted to move out. He supposed he could probably get Luna to take the other bedroom if Seamus left.  
  
There was a reason Dean was hesitant to talk to Seamus. He knew that even if Seamus accepted him, things wouldn’t be the same ever again. Seamus probably wouldn’t even notice himself hesitating touches and sitting further away, but Dean would. Things  _would_  change between them, and Dean wasn’t sure if he was ready for that.  
  
Luna was right, though, as always; he needed to talk to Seamus.  
  
*  
  
“You’re not…” Dean paused for a moment. “You’re not freaking out as much as I feel like you should be.”  
  
Seamus looked up to him. “You should hear the things I’m calling Firewhisky in my head.”  
  
“That’s not…” Dean sighed. “I’m talking about that thing I told you yesterday?”  
  
“Oh,” Seamus muttered. “That.” Seamus’ face was pink again, and Dean hesitated.  
  
“Look,” he eventually said, “I really don’t remember… doing anything, or trying anything, or suggesting—” He felt horrible. There was no way his straight best friend would have ever tried anything, so it had to have been him that… instigated things. He was never drinking again.  
  
“We could ask Luna,” Seamus said. Dean stared at him. “It’s not like she doesn’t know we’re in here – together – having a crisis.”  
  
“Crisis would be putting it mildly,” Dean muttered as Seamus stood from the bed. Dean watched as he pulled an old Gryffindor jumper from off of his floor. It was his, one that he’d been missing since their sixth year Hogwarts.  
  
He looked at the way the red Gryffindor jumper clashed horridly with the gaudy Kenmare shorts. A spark of fondness had Dean fighting back a smile. He schooled his face into a frown.  _Fond_  wasn’t something he should be feeling for his best friend, especially after he probably coerced his best friend into exchanging drunken orgasms.  
  
“If you’re sure,” Dean said, looking towards the door. Anything to look away from Seamus; even with the jumper he could still see the mark on Seamus’ neck.  
  
Dean followed Seamus into their living room where they could still hear Luna and Rolf talking. Whatever conversation they were having came to a lull when Dean and Seamus entered the room.  
  
When Seamus didn’t say anything, Dean spoke. “Uh, hey Luna, you’re still here.” He looked to the guy sitting next to her for a moment, before moving back to hre. “Did you sleep alright?”  
  
“I haven’t slept,” Luna told him happily. “Rolf and I have been discussing the probability of—”  
  
“Luna,” Seamus abruptly interrupted. Dean gave him a look. “Sorry, look, we’re having some trouble… remembering parts of last night. Can you fill us in?”  
  
“On which part?” Luna asked, turning away from Rolf and giving him her full attention.  
  
Dean looked to Seamus and sighed. “All of it.”  
  
Luna thought for a moment. “Well, Dean, do you remember coming out to Seamus before the party?”  
  
His face felt hot. “Not that far back, Luna.”  
  
Luna tilted her head at Dean. “Well, after you two started drinking, Seamus, you kept telling Dean how much you supported him.”  
  
“You kept saying how cool you were with it,” Rolf added. “But you kept saying it, and taking another shot, and saying it, and taking a shot, until you said…” Rolf hesitated. “Look, we don’t need to relive everything, mates. Everyone had a good time.”  
  
“I said;” Dean turned at the sound of Seamus’ voice. Seamus was staring fixedly at the ground. “I’m so cool with it, I’ll even give you a snog to prove it.”  
  
*  
  
Dean closed the door behind Luna and headed for their kitchen. Seamus was waiting for him, a brown bottle in one hand and a pair of shot glasses in the other. Dean rolled his eyes.  
  
“She’ll be right back, she’s just apparating home to change,” he told the boy in front of him.  
  
“Just us,” Seamus said, pouring two shots. Dean watched the way his fingers twisted the cap back on the bottle with quick ease. “First shot as flatmates.”  
  
“We lived together at Hogwarts for six years,” Dean retorted. “Actually, having our own bedrooms puts us further apart than when we were at Hogwarts.”  
  
Seamus rolled his eyes. “Just take the bloody shot, yeah?”  
  
Laughing, Dean grabbed one of the shot glasses of the counter. After touching the two glasses together to cheers the new chapter of their lives, Dean brought the fiery liquid to his lips and downed the shot. He cringed as heat tickled down his throat and settled in his stomach.  
  
It was liquid courage.  
  
“Seamus.”  
  
He would steamroll it, charge forward with fire in his veins.  
  
“I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now, so I’m just going to say it, and you can either accept it, or not. And that’s your thing, when I tell you. So I’m going to tell you. I’m—” Not straight. Playing for both teams.  _Bisexual_. The fire died as quickly as it started.  
  
Seamus was staring at him, so Dean reached over and grabbed the bottle he was still holding. He twisted off the cap and threw another shot back straight out of the bottle.  
  
This time, the fire in his throat felt harsh, unforgiving. Seamus was still staring at him, mouth slightly open.  
  
“I like guys. And girls. Both of them. Equally. Mostly equally.”  
  
Seamus was quiet, and Dean wished he could reach out in front of him and take the words back. But the present never existed, and you couldn’t take back the past.  
  
Dean wished he could make himself smaller. He had a full twelve inches of height on Seamus, but in quiet of Seamus’ hesitation, he felt like his best friend was looking down at him.  
  
“Does Luna know?”  
  
Unsure of where Seamus was going, Dean nodded slowly.  
  
“You told Luna before me?” There was a melancholy lilt in his accusation that surprised Dean.  
  
“I—” Dean frowned. “I wanted to tell you. I’ve just—”  
  
“I get it,” Seamus said. His tone was softer than Dean expected. Seamus always understood without Dean having to explain. He never should have doubted that Seamus would understand and accept him. Seamus’ expression turned thoughtful, and he opened his mouth to speak.  
  
A sharp knock on the door jarred them both.  
  
Seamus started towards the door, but Dean grabbed his arm.  
  
“Are we okay? What were you going to say?”  
  
Seamus clapped his hand against Dean’s. “Yeah, mate, of course.”  
  
The knocking started up again, this time much quicker, so Dean dropped his hand off of Seamus and let him go answer the door.  
  
“Luna, you’ere here five minutes ago, you don’t have to knock,” Dean heard Seamus say from the other room.  
  
Dean stared at the bottle of Firewhisky on their counter, listening to his two best friends discuss the merits of politeness.  
  
He grabbed the bottle and took another shot.  
  
*  
  
Dean reached over, and before Seamus could protest, he grabbed the boy by  _his_  jumper and dragged him down the opposite hallway. He heard Rolf make a comment to Luna about lunch; he felt like he should probably thank the girl or say goodbye, but instead he marched towards his own room with purpose.  
  
Pushing Seamus into his room, he slammed the door behind him.  
  
Dean glared at Seamus. “ _I’ll give you a snog to prove it?_  Prove what, exactly?” Seamus opened his mouth, but Dean kept talking. “Are you  _proving_ that you’re okay with me? Because, mate, that’s not how you do it.”  
  
He wouldn’t get distracted by Seamus’ mouth hanging open this time.  
  
“I don’t know why I said that.” Seamus’ voice was so small, Dean almost missed what he said next. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”  
  
“For what to happen?” Dean asked. He tried to keep his voice level, but he knew he still sounded irritated.  
  
Seamus’ expression was pained. “I wanted to remember it!”  
  
Dean recoiled. “—Remember… you wanted to  _remember_  drunkenly hooking up at a party with all of our friends in the other room?”  
  
“It’s not like it would happen if we were sober!”  
  
The second the words escaped Seamus, his eyes widened and he covered his mouth, like they weren’t meant to.  
  
The only thing Dean could manage to say was, “What?”  
  
“Come on mate, don’t make me say it,” Seamus said. His cheeks were flushed again, and he rubbed his foot against a scuff in the floor. “You made it a clear no when you ran out of my room this morning. I believe y’said ‘no, no way, no,  _no_ , nope’. Four no’s.”  
  
This couldn’t actually be happening. Dean knew his mouth was hanging open. “I thought I forced you into sleeping with me!”  
  
“I think the Firewhisky did that,” Seamus commented.  
  
“You wanted to snog me. You wanted to sleep with me?” Dean wished he would have taken the whole Hangover Draft. His head was spinning.  
  
Seamus nodded. Dean watched vulnerability etch itself across Seamus’ expression.  
  
“So, if I told you I’m in love with you, you’d say…”  
  
“Well, I sure as hell wouldn’t run out of the bloody room with a pillow in front of my—”  
  
Dean didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. In two large strides he crossed the room and pressed his mouth to Seamus’.  
  
The fire in his chest burned hotter than any shot he’d ever taken. It was like jumping off of a cliff, flying on a broom, and coming home, all wrapped up in one hurried touch of lips. Seamus pressed back with equal fervor, and Dean groaned as he felt Seamus open his mouth.  
  
Taking another step forward, Dean pushed up at the fabric Seamus’ jumper –  _his jumper_  – until he felt the boy’s skin under the tips of his fingers. He felt Seamus grip at his bare sides as Dean walked him towards his bed. Seamus stop moving as the back of his knees hit Dean’s mattress. Seamus sat, and Dean pulled back, leaning his hands against the mattress with one on either side of Seamus. They both stared, until Seamus grinned and Dean broke out into laughter.  
  
“Two days. We’ve been flatmates for two days,” Dean told him, resting his head on Seamus shoulder. He moved his mouth against the mark on Seamus’ neck, grinning when he felt the boy under him shiver. Dean dragged open-mouthed presses down Seamus’ neck, reveling in soft noises Seamus let escape. _Years_ , it had to have been, that Dean wanted to be the one to take Seamus apart, and now he had his best friend lying under him.  
  
“Has to be some kind of record,” Seamus commented idly as Dean climbed on top of him. Seamus moved back so he could sit against the headboard. He was laughing, and Dean wanted to kiss the dopy grin off of his best friend’s face.  
  
So he did. Seamus was still grinning under his mouth, so Dean bit his lip, grinning at the sudden gasp Seamus let out. Under him, Dean felt Seamus drag his fingers along the waistband of the shorts he was wearing. He pulled back.  
  
“We should talk about this,” Dean whispered onto Seamus’ lips. He leaned all of his weight onto one hand so he could push at the jumper Seamus was still wearing. With Dean’s help, Seamus sat forward and tugged the material over his head, and Dean tossed it on the floor.  
  
Seamus buried his face into Dean’s neck, nipping at his skin. “Probably should.” The tips of Seamus’ fingers dipped under his waistband. Dean groaned as Seamus’ mouth moved down his neck.  
  
Dean dropped his head down onto Seamus’ shoulder. “Seamus—”  
  
Seamus responded by pulling Dean’s hips down and pushing himself against them. Dean felt another noise escape his throat, and repeated the action. Seamus was hard, and Dean was right there with him.    
  
 _Unbelievable_. Dean couldn’t believe Seamus was in his bed, writhing under him as he kissed his way down Seamus’ pale stomach. It felt unreal, like if he opened his eyes and this would all be a dream. He pressed his mouth against the scar Seamus had on his stomach. Dean knew it was from Hogwarts, back when they were separated and Seamus ran his mouth at the Death Eaters running the school.  
  
He kissed the mark, silently promising to never let anyone hurt Seamus again.  
  
Seamus groaned. _“Dean_ —”  
  
Dean moved back up so he was straddling Seamus, grinding his hips down again. “Hmm?” he muttered into his ear.  
  
“I—please…” a guttural whimper escaped Seamus’ mouth, and his hands grasped at Dean’s sides. Seamus slid his fingers down again, pushing at the waistband of Dean’s shorts.  
  
Dean lifted his head and made eye contact with Seamus. “Are you sure?” His voice sounded small, raspy, and hesitant.  
  
Seamus’ grin lit up the room. He shrugged one bare shoulder, and that was enough for Dean. He moved down, capturing Seamus’ mouth against his. Seamus was eagerly receptive and pushed back with equal fervor.  
  
Dean’s arms began to shake as Seamus’ hands trailed under his waistband. His fingertips were feather light and unsure on his soft skin, and made Dean sigh shakily. Finally giving in, Dean pulled back and dropped onto the bed next to Seamus. Seamus smirked at him.  
  
“If you played a damn sport that used the upper half of your body—”  
  
Dean let out a loud, sharp laugh, burying his face into Seamus’ chest. He let himself laugh for only a second, before he used the lightened moment to drag his fingers down Seamus’ side and slide his hand into the boy’s shorts. He dragged his fingertips over coarse hair until he reached Seamus’ cock. This time, he didn’t need any liquid courage to capture Seamus’ lips and swallow the boy’s groan as he wrapped his fingers around Seamus’ cock. He moved his hand slowly, grinning against his best friend’s mouth as Seamus found purchase on his hip. Seamus let out soft, hitched breaths of air as Dean’s hand became more confident.  
  
“Bloody— _oh_ ,” Seamus moved his hand off of Dean and shoved at his own shorts. With a quick shift of bodies, Seamus kicked the offending material off and pushed his cock up into Dean’s hand. As Dean moved his hand along Seamus’ shaft at a slow, taunting pace, he pushed his own shorts the rest of the way off.  
  
Dean slid his thumb along the slit of Seamus’ cock, capturing another whimper against his own mouth. His lips felt raw from snogging Seamus so much, but he made no move to stop.  
  
“What was that about upper body strength?” Dean muttered, letting his thumb drag over Seamus’ tip. Seamus rolled onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes, groaning. Dean watched a blissed out and entertained grin form. He wanted to be able to put that expression on Seamus’ face every day, for the rest of his life. Dean chuckled at the noise of disappointment Seamus let out as he let go of his cock. He rolled over and reached under his bed for the box he would _not_ let Luna unpack, and grabbed his bottle of lube.  
  
Seamus moved his arm at the noise of the cap opening.  
  
“Come here.” Dean pulled Seamus back onto his side and against him. He slid his knee between both of Seamus’ thighs, and wrapped his hand around both their cocks.  
  
Even though he was plenty used to his own hand, it was nothing, _nothing_ compared to the feel of Seamus’ cock against his; nothing to the way Seamus’ hips stuttered, uneasy and jerky, as they moved together, and the way his name sounded in a whimper leaving Seamus’ mouth. This wasn’t his first time with a guy, but the easy way he and his best friend fit together made Dean’s heart stutter in his chest. It was sweet and easy bliss, right in front of him and so far away for so many years; Dean wondered how he could have missed the signs.  
  
Dean’s breath hitched as Seamus’ fingers dragged up his thigh and gripped his ass. He groaned against Seamus’ mouth as Seamus ghosted his fingers over Dean’s hole. Dean felt the first sparks of pleasure building from his toes and washing up his body.  
  
“You— _please_.” Dean slowed his hand, wanting to savor in all the feelings Seamus was giving him. He felt Seamus moving to grab the lube, and he slid his thumb under the head of Seamus’ cock, reveling in the stutter of the boy’s fingers. He was elated that he was having the same effect on Seamus as the boy was on him.  
  
Seamus moved his finger along Dean’s hole, tracing a slow pattern around the skin and taking Dean apart circle by circle. Dean felt him apply the smallest bit of pressure, and dropped his head into Seamus’ neck as Seamus pushed his finger in. Sweat was beading at the small of his back, and his breaths were growing shorter. He worked his hand over the both of them as Seamus crooked his finger.  
  
“I—you—” Seamus’ breath shook as his words trailed off into a groan. He felt a wet heat against his hand, and the feel of Seamus’ orgasm rattling against him sent Dean over the edge right after. Fire burst all the way to his toes as he called out Seamus’ name, coming onto the boy’s chest.  
  
His eyes were closed, and he could feel Seamus breathing softly into his hair. He knew they should probably move and clean themselves up, but instead he moved forward, ghosting his lips over Seamus’. He felt Seamus smile, so he did the same. Peeking one eye open, he huffed out a small breath of laughter as he looked at the amused grin Seamus was giving him.  
  
Before he could help it, he and Seamus were both laughing. Seamus’ expression was thoughtful. “So.”  
  
Dean bit his lip. “Yeah.”  
  
“Flatmates,” his friend said, hardly getting the word out before he started laughing, Dean quickly following him. He blamed endorphins, the post-orgasm high, even though he knew this was exactly what love was supposed to be.  
  
He got to have it with his best friend.


End file.
